Journey Home
by LovesLustersLost
Summary: The Inquisitor begins his return after the revelation of Solas' true identity. Reviews are so very welcome!


As Solas walked through the mirror, the magic began to take hold. Power surged and crackled violently green in the evening light. For a moment, neither breath nor sound escaped the Inquisitor's lips, then suddenly a scream rent the air like a blade through cloth. The man watched in shock as his fingers began to dissolve before his eyes, like ashes soaring away from a fire. He began to shake, his skin going pale as he fell to the side. The cold of the stone intensified his tremors as he tried to raise himself up. He struggled for a moment, but faltered and fell. As the green light faded, the Inquisitor's eyes became unfocused and his head dropped onto the rough ground beneath him.

Elsewhere in the valley, three silent figures waited near a darkened eluvian. A stern faced warrior crossed and uncrossed his arms as he watched his companion circle the artifact. The younger man's hands lit faintly with magic as they passed over the unresponsive surface. His swarthy face an open display of consternation. The flash of something out of the corner of his eye distracts him. "Maker's breath, Cassandra! If you're going to pace like a caged animal, do it in such a way you don't blind us!" The dark eyed woman turned on her heel and stalked to the bottom of the pile of rubble on which the mirror stood. "Haven't you made any progress?" she asked sharply. The mage glowered, "In case it has escaped Most Holy's notice-" he spat. "Quiet, you two!" thundered the warrior next to them, "We can't waste time acting like children!" The fierce stare the tall woman gave didn't hide the flash of guilt that washed across her features. Dorian raked his hands across his skull and then spoke quietly, "We're not getting through here anytime soon. Should we try to make it on foot?" His only answer was a cold wind that stirred the leaves around them. Ranier gave his shoulders a light shake. Before either of them could continue, a distant scream pierced the evening calm. "Maker, was that him?" Cassandra murmured softly.

While they stared into the direction from which the screen had come, a small sound of tinkling glass issued from behind them. The companions turned together to see the eluvian now active. Without a moment's pause the former seeker dashed through the portal. "Damn that woman!" Rainier cursed, as he ran to scoop up his shield and hurry after her. Dorian sighed, "What a fine bunch of lemmings we are," as he crossed the threshold and disappeared.

On the other side, Cassandra stopped suddenly and counted two dozen Qunari frozen in stone relief. The one nearest the gate held its axe as if it were in mid-swing. She looked across the field and they all stood in various attack positions facing the center. It was as if a fell magic had struck them nearly all at once. Brushing aside her grim feeling, her sharp eyes continued to sweep the courtyard as she advanced. There was no telling whose magic was at work here or whether it was temporary or not. She heard someone exit the mirror, and then the clank of Rainier's armor as he darted away from the first statue. She glanced back in time to see Dorian appear from the portal. "Vanhedis!" he cursed under his breath.

The three shared uneasy looks before Cassandra resumed her defensive posture and advanced. The warriors taking the outer edges as the mage followed. The Divine's golden armor gleamed as it caught a bit of dappled sunlight from the trees. She carefully placed her steps as they climbed the loose stone on the hillside. Experience held her hands steady, even as her nerves balled in her stomach. Once she reached the top, the huddled form on the ground came into view.

Abandoning caution again, she rushed to the Inquisitor's side. She returned her shield and sword and dropped to her knees. Gripping his shoulder and hip she turned him over. As she did, there was a small clatter of armor and she gasped. The left gauntlet fell away and revealed the damage beneath. The sleeve was burned to ashes, the armor blackened and cracked. His arm now ended in a terrible wound right where the elbow should be.

Dorian nudged Cassandra aside, pulling the remains of the sleeve back to get a better look. The weeping burn was black around the edges and red and raw everywhere else. "Dorian, what did this?" she asked. "I've no idea. I have no idea what that mark was capable of, and I've never seen magic that could remove a limb so precisely." He grimaced, "If it weren't so ghastly, I'd be fascinated to know." Slowly, the mage applied magic to the scorched stump. Feeling the spell, the Inquisitor's blue eyes slowly opened.

Cassandra spoke just a above a whisper, "Inquisitor, can you hear me?" His eyes searched until they found hers, before passing to Dorian and then lighting on the warden standing at a distance. "What happened?" the Seeker insisted gently. The Inquisitor closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, "Solas was here. He's no agent, he _is_ Fen'Harel. He wants to restore the elves by sundering the veil." Cassandra's gaze narrowed, "Where did he go?" Trevelyan looked toward the great eluvian at the precipice. It was now locked.

There was a heavy pause as Dorian looked critically at the wounded man. Even if one was to ignore his stark pallor, he was obviously weak and slightly in shock. "Take it easy, you've been through quite the ordeal," the Magister murmured. Trevelyan narrowed his gaze. "Help me up," he said without inflection. "We need to get back." Dorian opened his mouth to object, but the Inquisitor glared him into silence.

He sat up slowly with the mage's help. Silently, Cassandra stood and offered her hand. As she pulled him to his feet, his missing arm threw off his balance and he fell into Dorian's waiting arms. The Seeker pulled his good arm around her shoulders and nodded to Thom. The warden acknowledged her and took point as they headed back down the way they came. Dorian stared back toward the mirror, before he turned to follow. On his first step he kicked the burnt gauntlet that had fallen from the Inquisitor's hand. Without knowing why, he tucked it away in his rucksack and started down the steep slope.

It was an onerous trek along the path they came. The Inquisitor was still in shock and could only move so fast before lightheadedness threatened to put him on his ass. He hesitated before each eluvian. His lips pressed into a line, muscles tensing as they passed through. No one quite knew how to break the silence as they traveled. Cassandra's best guess put them back at Halamshiral at two hours before dawn if they kept their current pace. She would be glad to see it. They all needed rest, and give others know the new information.

Rainier adjusted his grip on the Inquisitor once they exited the mirror. The heavy steps of both men echoed loudly as they made their way into the Darvaarad. Cassandra scouted ahead as the group followed slowly behind her. The blazing torches in the dragon's cage had gone out, but the stone still held a good amount of heat. Slowly they continued into the fortress, reaching the room where Bull had shown his true colors. As they passed the body, Ranier noticed the red fletched shaft that protruded from its right eye. "One of yours isn't it?" he said somberly. The Inquisitor glowered and turned to continue on. Dorian spat on the ground as he passed.

Cassandra stood in the hall just outside the large door. Seeing the men emerge, she stalked towards them. "I can find no sign of reinforcements. Let us move quickly to the Crossroads." Maxwell's focus was drifting. He kept placing one foot in front of the other, but they seemed to be jumping from place to place. He couldn't remember how they got from the chamber where Bull's body lay to outside near the eluvian. Dorian was still talking next to him. _That man is always talking,_ he thought.

The next time he looked up, he saw the final mirror that would lead them to the Winter Palace. He was desperate to get out of the Crossroads, there was only a few meters left to safety. He pushed hard and suddenly he was face to face with an Inquisition guard. "We need a stretcher!" boomed Dorian's voice next to his ear. He saw the lad run off, and then he slumped against his friend.

A light scent wafted from the fireplace as they entered the room. The lit sconces cast an amber glow over the gilded furnishings and the large canopy bed. The palace healer stood at a table near the wall covered in various sundries. The Inquisitor woke feeling slightly stronger, but still distant. The stretcher bearers set him down on the bed.

The healer's reedy voice failed to grab his attention. Fatigue and the raw ache in his limb kept him from bringing his mind to the present. He closed his eyes. Bull's betrayal stung deeply, most of all because he should have known better. And Solas, once an ally, now a shadowy foe. The healer said something else and then there was suddenly was something warm and wet pressed onto the stump of his arm. The Inquisitor hissed in surprise as the sensation raced like electricity up his all too sensitive nerves. Half lidded eyes warily followed the wizened hands as they wrapped the poultice in place. A quiet knock sounded at the door. He sat up in bed and glared at the guard who'd entered the room. The boy couldn't stop himself from briefly staring at the missing arm "What?" the Inquisitor growled. The young man paled a bit, "Sister Nightingale thought you should know that the Lady Montilyet is on her way here." The Inquisitor sighed, "Thank you." He looked to the healer and rumbled, "I need a shirt." From one of the closets the old man produced a quilted green robe with velveteen trim. Maxwell slowly stood and allowed him to ease it onto his bare shoulders.

The door flew open and in rushed the young lady. Her raven tresses falling loose around her shoulders, her olive face stained with tears. Seeing her, all his doubts were erased. It seemed a split second and she'd already crossed the room and appeared in front of him. She stared deeply into his eyes and all at once they were in each others' arms. "Oh, Josie..." he whispered. He couldn't hold her tight enough or pull her close enough. He buried his face in her silken hair and wept.

She held him as he released all the fear and dread that had knotted inside him for days. "I thought I lost you," he choked, "I couldn't bear the thought of never holding you again." His breath shook with emotion as she caressed his face. "You are safe at last, my darling, and we are together. No force in Thedas will take you from me." As they locked eyes again, he pulled her into a tender but hungry kiss.

His burst of energy utterly spent, he swayed on his feet. Jospehine pulled the bedclothes aside helped him into it. As she brought the blankets up to cover him, he caught her hand. "Stay with me Josie." His robe was slightly open, revealing several ugly bruises on his muscular chest, but nothing spoke so clearly of his need for comfort as the gentle pleading in his eyes.

Without a word, she sat on the bed and removed her boots. She had left the uniform jacket in quarters when she had run to be at his side. Laying on top of the coverlet next to him, see realized how much she too needed her love close. She sighed in relief. "I love you, Josephine Montilyet," he whispered. "And I, you," she murmured, "Always."

Maxwell startled awake. Once he remembered his surroundings, he let his head fall back onto the pillows between him and the ornate headboard. Josephine had left, but her scent lingered on the fine linens. It was a sublime comfort. He attempted to sit up, but again his missing limb disrupted his balance. Frowning, he swung his legs over the side, and sat still for a moment. The realization slowly set in, like fog falling from the Frostbacks; This is what life is now. Forever changed.

The bells sounded outside, calling the day's proceedings to order. Setting his jaw, he marched to the door and opened it. Cullen stood across the hall lecturing a soldier, and he snapped his attention to the figure in the doorway. "Inquisitor!" he said with a trace of relief. The two men gripped arms as comrades in arms do. Trevelyan's face turned somber. "Cullen, send for my uniform and the locked chest on my desk." The commander looked at him in askance. The leader continued, "It's time we ended this Exalted Council. On our terms."


End file.
